Ebeneza Scrooge

We put away our Christmas decorations and took down the tree last night. And the only thing that made me happier than taking down the decorations was looking around this morning at my plain, boring home. I actually said aloud, "I am so glad it's over." I am certain I will be getting a visit tonight from the ghosts of past, present and future who will hopefully help me make sense of it all. When did I go from being sweet, tiny tim - okay, sassy chubby Jennie, to grouchy old Scrooge?

At first I thought maybe it's because this is the first year I wasn't at home with my parents for Christmas day. Is it not Christmas unless I get to walk down the spiral staircase in matching PJs and turn the corner into a room so full of presents that you can barely see the floor? Or maybe it is because I have switched roles and become the creator of the experience for my two young children and no longer get to open my eyes Christmas morning to a day full of surprises. Am I that lazy that Christmas isn't fun because I actually have to get off the couch and do something? Or maybe it's because the past two years have been such a blur and that it's very hard to enjoy anything when a good night's sleep is about as common as a lunar eclipse. I am sure all of those things contributed - but I knew there had to be something more.

And then a word came to me - spirit. I may have done all of the "right" preparations to create a Christmas for my family. I decorated the house; I wrapped the presents and placed them in neat piles for everyone; I filled the stockings and put the Christmas lights on. And I tried to emulate all of the traditions from my family, incorporate some of my husband's and even create some of our own. But I never acknowledged the spirit - and I don't just mean the Christmas Spirit but also the more important and significant one - the Holy Spirit.

It is no big secret that going to church is something that I have completely failed at lately. It is definitely not easy getting the kids ready in the morning and out the door. My mom calls the kid's pajamas their uniforms. Going to church was something I always wanted to do more often, but it seemed so impossible. I know the days we do go, usually when my parents are here, I always leave feeling so glad that my family and I went. But I never really thought about the downsides of not going. I never realized that it could cause such a void. It took a bah-hum-bug Christmas for me to realize how much religion, and going to church, and inviting the Spirit into my life made Christmas so much better. Made everything better.

Next year I plan to sit around the day after I put the Christmas decorations away and feel completely depressed. I will be filled with so much spirit - both Christmas and Holy - that we won't put the Santas away until the Easter Bunnies are ready to come out.